


Resentment

by Flaminea



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 10:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5044798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flaminea/pseuds/Flaminea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vivianne Hawke is, after all, nothing more than a young girl, a bit naive both in her ideals and her feelings. And yet she's asked to play hero for a whole town. <br/>Her brother and her first love have both betrayed her expectations. Will she ever be able to forgive them, or will she be caged by her own resentment?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Resentment

Vivianne Hawke was sitting in her armchair, almost curled up to herself, her head resting on her knees. Since those words, her evening felt ruined all of a sudden. It shouldn't have: she, Anders, Fenris and Carver had come back victorious, holding Corypheus spoils, plus, she and Carver had shared a nice brotherly moment. She, Carver and Mother had exchanged tales about Father, had laughed together like a real family regardless his templar allegiance and the magic running into her blood. Why did Mother have to ruin their perfect day? 

You and Carver are wasting Malcom's actions. Please, don't let your resentment get stronger than your love. Try harder, for your father.

Yep. She had enjojed her evening until Mother, after Carver had left, had presented her with that plead. Vivianne snorted, causing Wolf to half-open one eye and look quizzically at her. She hadn't meant to dig up those memories. To think back at when Carver was still a whiny boy hidden in her own shadow, and yet still her little brother instead of her little templar brother. Despite his deep rooted frustration for not being a mage in a family of mages, Carver had earned her esteem. Even more. Vivianne never dared to tell anyone, but all her jokes and her standing up for the family on her own feet, her acting like the “lady of the house” were just a way to show him how strong she could be. He had been her knight in shining armor for a long time, a young man deserving more than life had offered, a bit bruised but still kind- hearted and loving. In fact, after Father's death Carver had been the only man left in her life to trust and rely on until... Vivianne gasped, eyes widened like if a ghost had popped up beside her. A look in the mirror in front of her reflected back her scared eyes and an upset look on her face. A glance weirdly contrasting with her blonde hair, perfectly arranged in three braids entwined on her head. So much discomfort, and so much order. She couldn't let that thought come up, let alone give it voice. Panicked, the girl fled from her own reflection and stood abruptly up. She looked around, desperately searching for something which could chase away those memories. Her glance the same of a cornered prey. A sigh of relief made through her lips, when her fingers found one of Leandra's gifts on the night table, a novel she had cherished many times. Struggling for any kind of antidote against the memories the forbidden continuation of that sentence had revived, she curled up in bed, still clothed in her armor and all, and opened her book on a random page. Only to find herself gasping at the very sight of those words.

> My love for Linton is like the foliage in the woods: time will change it, I'm well aware, as winter changes the trees. My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary.

 

She slam the book closed. And she immediately bit her lip, full of shame: that was Mother's gift, that novel so full of annotations and so lively, so clearly read again and again. Cherished. With a remorseful sigh, Vivianne caressed the yellowish pages with her fingertips before dropping it gently on the floor, the pages facing the floor. Almost simultaneously, a mabari's head popped up from under the bed, and Wolf jumped straight on the bed sliding under the sheets right after, only his intelligent eyes visible. The sight was enough to steal the girl a brief smile.   
“Come on, big boy. You know Anders doesn't want you under the sheets, and he might be back very soon” she said, jokingly, without any intention to move the dog away and instead, in fact, brushing his big head. Was that a pang of guilt?She wondered if Wolf had sensed her hurt and discomfort, and knew how badly she needed a hug. 

Do you ever wonder what he thinks about?

Her hard earned smile dropped. And this time, guilt stung hard. She could almost hear his chocolate melting voice, see him wondering about Wolf's intelligence. Vivianne's panicking eyes wandered at the door. “Please, don't come home now” she whispered to herself hugging Wolf tight. And there she was, a child naive enough to act like not being surprised by Anders with those memories floating in her brain could be even remotely enough to solve everything. Vivianne, her head resting on Wolf's though neck, waited patiently for what, she knew very well by now, was about to feel. And welcomed her rage and resentment towards Fenris with resignation.   
There was denying it. Carver had been the only man left in her life to trust and rely on until the day she and her friends took Anso's job. Carver, Anders and Varric had look worried at the sight of a man able to tear one's heart apart from a chest tearing up his armor. Not her. Her instinct had made her see hurt, angst and fear, emotions hidden under a facade and in those green eyes, revealed in that soft, hesitant way he had asked their help. 

Seems like a waste of a perfectly handsome elf.

That adorable, shy giggle had been the confirmation. She had known from the start: though he didn't share her view on mages, he was not one to back up from any kind of confrontation, he was a good man brave enough to fight for his friends and himself. Step by step, an evening after another, her fascination had become affection and a her affection had become love. She had never been scared to admit it, and for three years she had been oblivious to Ander's feelings and had shrugh her friend's concern about how Fenris was “damaged” off. None of that mattered. She had never been in love before, how could she? An apostate always on the run, no chance to bond with anyone. And yet she instinctively recognized her own feeling. For three years, she had drunk every smile, every laugh, every argument they had shared, every single time waiting to be held in his arms and led, for the first time in her life, to bed by a man. The man she had grown to love.  
Vivianne almost crumpled under the weight of that memory, fighting hard to swallow back her bile and her bitter tears. 

I have been thinking of you. In fact, I’ve been unable to think of little else. Command me to go and I shall.

This should never have happened in the first place. 

It was all she could think about. Haunted by those two opposite declarations echoing all around her brain, Vivianne couldn't take it anymore. The disappointment, the rage, the pain took over her and she threw the book against the wall. Blasted. If only Fenris was more like the book's character, Heathcliff, and wasn't still so kind and protective towards her. If only she could hate him, instead of being simply so resentful and suffering such a raging pain. In only he didn't comment on her and Anders, pointing out how prone she was to follow “crazy tainted people advice”. If only she could understand him and his ways.   
And as her bitter tears reached her eyes, Vivianne knew. She was trapped in resenting Fenris and blaming him for not being the man she thought she knew anymore, without being able neither to hate him or forgive him. Just like Carver, Fenris had become a different person. One able to throw her away like garbage then being the kindest man in the world, even in disagreeing with her. The other signing up for the templars and shed his own skin. She had lost the two men of her life, and she had to turn to someone else to keep walking, to be the Qunari ambassador the Viscount expected her to be.

Sniffing, her cheeks still burning with the salt of her tears, Vivianne dropped a kiss on Wolf's head and dragged herself out of bed, unfastening her armor and getting ready for sleep. Anders would have been back soon, and she couldn't bare her heart to him. Not yet. He wouldn't have understood: he would have mistook her resentment for love, he would have been hurt and jealous. And she couldn't mistreat who had remained by her side since her life had fallen apart, to the first man who ever treated her like she was his precious treasure. The man she had grown fond of, first as a friend and then as a lover, the only one who shared all her ideals and dreams. Regardless of Justice.

And yet, as Vivianne slipped under the blanket side by side with Wolf and finally sleep had almost took a hold on her, a thought tickled her mind. What if she was bound to Fenris just like Catherine Earnshaw was inevitably entangled with Heathcliff? What if she was never to be free from his hold over her? What if her feelings for Anders were doomed to change and pale in time like he was another Linton?


	2. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vivianne Hawke is, after all, nothing more than a young girl, a bit naive both in her ideals and her feelings. And yet she's asked to play hero for a whole town.  
> Her brother and her first love have both betrayed her expectations. Will she ever be able to forgive them, or will she be caged by her own resentment?

Time is a healer, so they say. She had both time and Anders as healers by her side, and they collaborated in healing her wounds. Love had left her heart an open sore, and it had taken love, again, to vanquish that plague. Her ache softened, and the same was happening, slowly, to her resentment towards Fenris. She did no longer flinch every time he talked to her, although she couldn't still bring herself to visit him at his mansion. She simply saw no reason why: resentment might have been soothed, but she still could not afford to name him a friend. In truth, she didn't know what to do of him. And yet, strangely enough, she didn't want him to leave Kirkwall. Of that, she was afraid: he seemed more and more tormented, more and more impatient, more and more ... out of place. Lonely. But taking care of his wounds was not anymore his responsibility, nor she had any right to.  
She thought better to leave the matter to his closest friend: Varric and Isabela. Though, when day after day she found herself glancing at him and noticed how broodier and broodier he was, she ended up changing her mind: she would have gone to him and she would have tried to offer him her friendship. 

_" Come with me Hawke. If this is a trap, I need someone who can fight to back me up.”" _

Hawke swallowed back the bitter words on the tip of her tongue. “Someone who can fight”? Was that everything she was to him now? She remained silent, staring at him. 

 

_" I know you owe me no favors, but if we happen to go there anyway..." _

She would never have expected him to hold out the hand of friendship.

# §§

_" What's gotten into you, Anders? What in the world made you talk like that?”" _  
_" I only spoke the truth, love. All his hatred towards mages is only jealousy in disguise" _  
_" Don't – love – me, Anders! Maker's balls, he didn't even remember that! He was meeting his only family left and you had to be a jerk. I guess you couldn't have waited a couple of hours, you had to pick at him right in front of his sister!" _  
_" I can only hope you will act protective towards a son of our as protective as you are towards Fenris now. He broke your heart, did you forget that?" _

# §§

She refused to even reply to Anders, but she hadn't. She hadn't forgotten the ordeal Fenris had put her through, nor the uneasiness she had felt the first months at Anders' side, like she was concealing some kind of guilty secret. Her resentment was still there: softened, soothed, dying, but still alive.

_" Maybe it's time I leave this hatred behind me. It's poison, yet I continue to swallow it." _

And yet, Fenris knew better than that. He probably had no idea, but he was given voice to her exact thoughts. His words were enough to clear her sight: she had always known he was suffering too, she had just been too focused on herself to admit it. It wasn't him putting her through all the pain and uncertainty, it had been her choice too. 

 

_" If I have been difficult, I'm sorry. Clearly I owe you more than I believed." _

Finally, she could manage to smile in reply without faking it. And she found out that seeing her friend, Fenris, smile again was a warm, welcome change.

# §§

_" You are the most important thing in my life, but some things matter more than my life. More than either of us. I'm sorry." _

She was no fool, of course. She had always known that he was getting more and more deranged as the days were passing by. But he had always remained affectioned, gentle, passionate: and she had trusted him, enough to distract the Grand Cleric for the sake of all mages, and for the love she bore. 

Vivianne Hawke had always dreamed of a lavish marriage, a long white gown, colourful petals raining on her. She was no fool. She had known for a long time that Anders could never have gifted her that dream. However, she would never have expected a betrayal.

_" I told you I would break your heart. Just now it breaks mine to do it." _

At that moment, she hated him for breaking her heart in a so gentle, delicate manner.

# §§

Anders never left the house, nor she asked him to leave. They kept on having breakfast, wishing each other goodnight and share the bed: a couple of times they made love, too, but it turned out so awkward that both of them, without exchanging a single word, had agreed to refrain themselves even from trying. And every night, laying awake, she kept wondering why he had to become someone so different from the man she had learned to love.  
She was aware how much their friends had noticed: once, she and Anders would chat all the time, shoulder to shoulder. Now, all he told her was to keep focused on their current duty. Luckily for her, everyone was tactful enough to not ask her why they kept living together when they didn't even talk to each other anymore.  
But one day, someone spoke up.

_" You ... are living with Hawke now?" _

She couldn't mistake Fenris' voice. Giving a glance back, she saw him walking side by side with Anders. Dismayed, she wondered what kind of question was that. Of course Anders did. Fenris knew that very well.

_" What's it to you?" _  
_" Be good to her. Break her heart, and I will kill you" _

Vivianne froze in place, causing to Aveline to bump her. Time seemed to stop: no one was talking, no one was moving anymore, all while Fenris was looking right into Anders' eyes, tense jaw and icy stare. It took several seconds to Varric to recall Fenris' attention and drag him away, to Aveline to encourage her to keep walking and to Anders to sheepishly follow the group.

# §§

Not once the smile faded on her lips, as well as her constant jokes became her better armor. Thing had gotten even worse after Leandra's death. Since when she had found out about her and Fenris' liaison, a chilling layer had descended between her and Isabela: she simply couldn't bear the thought of him by her side, though she would never have dared to say it out loud nor ask herself why. In truth, everyone could see the shade overlaying her continuous joking, and Varric and Aveline had even attempted to speak with her seriously. To no use: she had brushed him away through her usual smiling mask. She couldn't bear seeing Anders simply keeping quiet, probably lost in long, complex conversations with Justice. So Vivianne took shelter in her own mind, barely taking care of anyone else apart herself, blind to anything else except what Kirkwall asked of her Champion. That was, too, the only way she knew to feel useful, to pursue her goal: making other people's lives better. 

The only exception in that midst of silence was Merrill. The cute, frank Merrill, aware like everyone else that something was wrong but not discreet enough to suppress her thoughts.  
One day, she heard her earnest friend giggling and ogling in Fenris' direction. His broody, brusque reaction burst out almost immediately.

_" What? Why are you looking at me like that?" _  
_" You're in love!" _  
_" I am not." _  
_" Everytime she looks away, you stare at Hawke with those sad puppy eyes." _  
_" There are no puppy eyes." _

Vivianne had listened silently, forcing herself to let the embarrassing chat flow away. And she almost surprised herself when she turned, clutched fists and flaming stare. She needn't say anything. It was Varric, the kind, patient Varric, who led away Merrill, arm in arm with her.

# §§

Red, fluffy clumps were garnishing the sky. As one was eaten by the celestial sphere, another flew up to take its place. A twisted shape of red smoke had replaced the grand Chantry. Vivianne Hawke wasn't looking at it, though she kept that sight locked into her head. Her glare was fixed on her love's back. One moment she saw him planting a magical bomb into the Chantry, the other she could feel his gentle hands caressing her skin, his whispered words as he comforted her after Leandra's death. She could hear both the sound of their laughs intertwined and the rumble of the explosion. His confession and his fear that she could have aided him.

She couldn't take it anymore. And for the first time in weeks, she turned to her friends for real: she asked their opinion. Listening to their different viewpoints somehow woke something inside her. There was a whole world inside each of them, and as focused as she had been on herself, she had denied them all for much too long, hidden behind a laughing mask. Even Anders. Maybe, all this time he had needed her, and she had offered him only silence and disdain.  
A stern look on his face, Fenris was the last one to talk. And the only one to take some steps towards Anders. “I had warned you, mage. I told you I would have killed you, if you had broken her heart”.  
Not the lyrium veins glowing, but his calm tone, so brimming with cold rage, scared Hawke. And as she had done three years before, she held his arm and stopped him. Staring back into his eyes full of hurt, she simply asked him to stop. She could distinctly see the last shard of hope splintering into his stare; and at the same time, a relieving acceptance. Forgiveness, without any trace of resentment.

_" I want you to know, Hawke. Meeting you was the only good fortune I ever had" _  
_" I ... don't think I ever thanked you, Fenris. When you left me, I couldn't cope with my resentment towards you. I never cared about your feelings. And yet, today I can forgive him because of you. You trusted me more than anyone. You came to me when you found your sister and you needed someone by your side, even though we hadn't talked in ages. You were the first to ask for forgiveness. And you trust me enough to fight for what you hate. I wish it didn't take the Chantry explosion for me to stop molding my loved ones in who I tought they had to be. I wish I actually listened to you all instead of deciding in my mind who you had to be and why you acted as you did" _

# §§

_" And what about me? Do you really want to fight your own brother?”" _  
_" You're the templar. You tell me" _  
_" This isn't what I want. I ..." _

_" Ser Carver. I suggest you remember our purpose" _  
_" I ...Yes, Knight Commander Meredith" _

Now that Carver has chosen to fight by Meredith's side instead of hers, they really are her family. Anders, Fenris, Aveline, Isabela, Varric, Merrill. With them by her side, she marches to battle: for the mages and for freedom. Without them, she would crumble on the floor and cry for Carver's betrayal. Carver: not her brother anymore, only the templar. She was wrong about everything but him, and yet she can't blame him completely. When she chose to defend the mages, she was very aware Carver belonged to the rival formation. Weigh down by a heavy heart, Vivianne asks forgiveness to her mother for what she may have to do.

# §§

As she, Anders, Fenris and Aveline reach the Gallows courtyard, the last glimpse of hope dies. Her little brother is by Meredith's side. He may have fled the battle and he didn't. She hears the Knigt Commander's words like they were muffled, as if a bubble isolated her from her surroundings. Nevertheless, she keeps squeezing her staff. Not even for a moment she thinks about yielding. 

When Meredith points her lyrium's sword right to her chest, she doesn't say a single word. She doesn't even look at her: her stare is set on Carver. She desperately tries to remember as the child she sparred with, one wooden sword for each, and the young, sullen boy ready to protect his sisters against any danger. She recalls the morning when he knocked out Bethany's suitor to prevent him from spying on her and find out she was a mage. 

_" No. I won't kill my sister for you." _

She barely can believe her own ears when Carver talks. The weight on her chest lifts up: she's never been gladder to be wrong about someone. It doesn't matter now: whether she lives or dies, she does with all her family by her side.  
Vivianne Hawke smiles as Meredith charges, and a lightning crackles on her left hand.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
